


Addicted

by emmygranger95



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Biting, Choking, Dirty Talk, F/M, Inspired by Music, Smut, Violent Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:41:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmygranger95/pseuds/emmygranger95
Summary: Inspired by the song "Addicted" by Saving Abel. You ever hear a song and character's name instantly pops in your head? This song yelled "DEAN AMBROSE" at me in all caps. Second time writing Dean, first time writing Dean in a smutty way, as well as my first time writing him after spending hours watching old Dean/Mox promos. I blame Atlas for calling the OFC by pet names only, but especially for calling her Kitten.





	Addicted

**July 17th, 2018**

**Costa Rica**

Sitting beneath the refreshing shade of a palm tree, she sipped gradually on her piña colada, enjoying the sound of the rolling blue waves breaking against the sandy shore faintly beneath the soundtrack playing in her earphones. After everything she’d been through, it was exhilarating to find herself in this position — glowing, healthy, and at ease, for the first time in a long time. The dark shades on the crook of her nose fell slightly as she dipped her head, catching a glimpse of the clean-cut lifeguard nodding in her direction, fingers wiggling in greeting. She waved shyly back.

Was he hot? Totally. And he was showing interest, which is more than she could say for most of the male population. She noticed him taking several glances in her direction, though no one was out farther than the lifeguard’s post except for herself, and she wouldn’t be heading to the water any time soon. He was hot, clearly interested, and available.

But he wasn’t Dean.

Dean, who single-handedly ruined her life. It wasn’t his fault, though. She could feel it, deep in her gut. He never hurt her intentionally. But that was the thing about him — nothing he ever did was intentional. He was reactionary, through and through. And sometimes, his impulsivity created problems.

She remembered a night when he had come home after two days in Houston. Dean was battered, bruised, and bloody, and her heart had nearly stopped in fright. His match at Survivor Series had been a grueling one, but it didn’t have to be that way.

_If only someone hadn’t begged Vince to make it a no-disqualification match…_

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?” She slapped a bag of ice on his God-awful black eye, hearing him hiss through his teeth at the sharp coldness.

“Ya think this is bad, sweetheart, you should see the other guys,” he said with a chuckle, wincing in pain and grasping his midsection.

“Very funny, asshole.” She applied pressure on his eye, making him bat her hand away.

“I used to come home cut up a whole lot worse than this, ya know. Back in my CZW days.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“I should count myself lucky that I wasn’t around to see what you were like.” He nodded, agreeing with her statement. She squinted at him. “I was being sarcastic.”

“You’re right. You probably wouldn’t have been able to handle me anyway.” He ran a thumb across his bottom lip, weirdly pleased to find a splotch of red once he pulled it away. He looked at her dead in the eyes, a playful spark glistening in his own, teasing her.

“And just what the hell does that mean?” She crossed her arms, knowing full well what it meant and hating herself at the thought of her liking where the situation was bound to end up.

They did this more often than either of them would care to admit. When there was even the hint of a bubbling, impending argument, one of them would do something — anything — to keep it from boiling over. A look here, the brush of their fingers there.

Then instead of an inevitable argument, they ended up naked, mouths on sensitive skin, fingers pressing firmly on each other’s throats, their bodies connecting in any and every conceivable touch possible. It was their own, masochistic form of torture: get each other so riled and angry at very real things with real life implications, then forgetting about them completely when one of them made the first move. He’d pin her to the wall, hands grasped tightly above her head, waiting for the annoyed “Dean!” that would leave her lips before grinding into her, moans escaping the both of them in a way they could never comprehend. This was easier. Easier than working out their problems. Sex, they could do. And they were damn good at it.

 _I’m so addicted to_  
_All the things you do_  
_When you’re going down on me_  
_In between the sheets_  
_All the sounds you make_  
_With every breath you take_  
_It’s unlike anything_  
_When you’re loving me…_

“Watcha listenin’ to, princess?”

She frowned, grabbing her phone from the small table next to her and pressing pause, before taking out her earbuds.

_Sounded like…?_

She surveyed the area around her, finding no one anywhere near her. Just as it had been. _But…_ she shook her head, deciding it couldn’t be. She hadn’t seen or heard from him in months. Plus, she was certain the company wasn’t on international tour at the moment. There was no way he would be in Costa Rica. Actually, there was no way he was even out of a hospital bed, if memory served.

Shaking all thoughts of him away, she placed the buds back in her ears and pressed play.

 _Oh girl let’s take it slow_  
_So as for you well you know where to go_  
_I want to take my love and hate you ‘til the end_

“My kitten never did like the water. Fuckin’ hated it. Loved her sand, though. Loved basking in the sun.”

There it was. This time, she didn’t bother to pause the music, but took out her earbuds and turned to peer behind her chair.

A rustling in the lower ferns caught her eyes, and she could feel her heart lunge to her throat. The leaves were moving.

Frowning at herself for being such a little bitch, she managed one word. “D-Dean?”

The rustling continued behind her seat as she turned back in the direction of the ocean, squeezing her eyes shut, hoping whatever or whomever it was would cease to exist if she refused to acknowledge it. She tried to think. _It can’t be Dean._

Suddenly her eyes went wide. She remembered the warning in the resort lobby of being on the lookout for the Costa Rican wildlife.

Poison dart frogs, howler monkeys, pumas, jaguarundi, ocelots…

_But this close to the beach?_

She heard the sound of a twig snapping, and she dropped her phone in the sand, hand flat on her chest as she did her best to keep her heart from pounding out of it.

_Please don’t let it be a puma._

The greyish-brown head of one of the slowest animals in the world popped out from the underbrush.

“A sloth!” she shrieked. Okay, so not so bad. She shook her head. Not as scary as a puma, at least. She turned back in her chair, no longer terrified of what lay beyond the beach.

She looked around, checking to see if anyone had noticed her encounter with the animal, when she saw the concerned look of the lifeguard as he stood leaning out of his lifeguard’s chair, shouting. “Todo bien?” _All good?_

She smiled weakly, giving him a thumbs up.

She picked up her phone, dusted it off, and tapped it against the bottom of her palm to see if any more sand was inside.

“Some scare, huh, sweetheart? Bet ya didn’t expect that shit, huh?”

And there it was again. That heavy, dense ache, like a mustang sitting on her diaphragm.

She’d had enough.

She picked up her things, settling her earbuds and phone back into her beach bag. She slung the towel over her shoulder, every bit of her body dry from having basked in the sun for hours, and she made the walk from the beach to the resort alone, and —she hoped— in silence.

Her sandals slapped against the wooden boardwalk. It became a welcome, comfortable, routine noise, but suddenly it was accompanied by another, similar sound. “Espera!” _Hold on!_

She twisted, her locks whirling around, the chiseled face of the young lifeguard at her side.

“Hola. Como estas?” _Hi, how are you?_

Shit. She understood what he asked, but wasn’t sure if she could continue the conversation entirely in Spanish. With a look of lament, she spoke in English, “I’m doing well, but I don’t speak much Spanish, I’m sorry.”

“Ahh, okay, está bien.” _Oh, okay, that’s fine._ “You’re here on vacation?” he asked.

“Si, um, yes. Just trying to take my mind off of…um, work,” she stammered, pulling a strand of hair from her face.

He smiled brightly. “Take your mind off work, huh?” His hand reached up to cover his eyes from the sun as he squinted at her. “I think I can find a way to help you with that.”

Curious, she asked him what he meant.

“Would you like to go out with me, tonight?”

 _It’s not like you to turn away_  
_From all the bullshit I can’t take_  
_It’s not like me to walk away_

**December 19, 2017  
Birmingham, AL**

The lights faded in and out for Dean Ambrose. A dull ache refused to leave from the back of his eyes; apart from that, all he could feel was a crushing, biting pain in his right elbow. The low, muffled voices of the surgeons telling him that everything would be all right did nothing to calm him, so the anesthesiologist took over. An oxygen mask was placed over his nose and mouth.

“Am I gon’ be okay, doc? Don’ fuckin’ lie to me,” was all he managed before he heard a soft hiss, and his eyes shut of their own accord.

When he woke up, he never in a million years expected the look on his girlfriend’s face.

She was pissed.

“What’s that look on your face, kitten? What, ya ain’t happy to see me?” Dean joked breathlessly, doing his best to keep the mood light, though that certainly wasn’t her intention.

“Dean, what the hell?” She crossed her arms, her furious gaze not letting up one bit.

“What?” He asked, refusing to give in to her.

“You did it again,” she seethed, “you put yourself in danger again. Why the hell do you keep risking yourself like that?”

“Kitten,” he said, holding out the hand of his good arm, his eyes begging for her hand. She looked at it, frustrated, tears pooling in her eyes. “Kitten, accidents happen. It’s part of this job. I put my ass on the line every day. Yesterday-was it yesterday? Was no different.”

Her lip quivered, the hand she thought about placing in his curling into a fist as she used the other to wipe at her eyes. She looked down at the ground for a half second before steeling herself and asking Dean the one thing that would get him caught.

“If yesterday was no different, then you look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t tell Joe to give it all he had. That you didn’t tell him to hit you with that crate even after you’d already been injured. That he didn’t say to you, ‘Dean, let’s not get your elbow messed up more than it is’ and that you didn’t reply with, ‘It’s fine, just gimme your best shot.’”

Her voice cracked, already seeing the answer in his eyes before Dean even thought to speak. “You fucking tell me, Dean Ambrose, that everything I just said is a goddamned lie.”

He tried to mask the sorrow in his eyes with a smile. He scoffed breathlessly, “Kitten, that’s…” but she wouldn’t hear it. She picked her purse off the seat, slung it over her shoulder.

“Kitten, _please!_ Don’t fucking do this, don’t you do this to me. I’m-I’m fine, don’t ya see?” He begged. He gestured to his elbow, wrapped up in bandages. “Good as fuckin’ new, kitten, I swear!” But his protests didn’t do him any good. She was gonna leave him, it was the only way that she could deal with it, deal with him.

Usually, every fight was an explosion waiting to happen that was resolved by sex. But he was weak, unable to move because of the medications the doctors had given him. He couldn’t get near her, he couldn’t touch her. Everything Dean could do to prove to her that this wouldn’t happen again was impossible. “A little bit of therapy, and I’ll be back in the ring before you know it!”

She turned back before reaching the hospital room door, looking at him solemnly. “…And how long after that before you’re back in a hospital bed?” she whispered.

_“Kitten.”_

“Goodbye, Dean.”

Dean yelled so loudly that the nurses and the doctors came barreling through the door mere seconds after she left. He kicked and he screamed, his good arm pounding his hospital mattress until they shot him up with a sedative to calm him down.

He woke up the next morning, seemingly a new man. That was, until he asked his mother where his girlfriend was and she told him she didn’t know. It came rushing back to him — their fight, her biting words. The fact that it was all his fault.

His heart rate went up, nearly scaring his mother to death as the monitor began to beep louder and faster. She yelled for a doctor, and they went through the motions all over again.

She stood thoughtfully in front of the wall mirror, turning and posing in her little yellow dress. Spaghetti strapped, low cut, barely reached past her mid-thigh. Her hair was tied up in a loose bun, strands of hair framing her face like they’d fallen out and she hadn’t purposely left them that way. The wedge sandals gave her some height, but not too much, and she could show off her manicured, sea blue painted toenails.

She bit her lip, hands on her hips as she wondered to herself if the lifeguard would appreciate the effort she put in to looking nice.

“I know I’d sure as hell appreciate it.”

She whipped around, the room suddenly going cold, her nipples peaking beneath her dress. The skin above her cleavage was riddled with prickling gooseflesh, and a shiver went down her spine and across her arms.

“This isn’t real,” she whispered to herself aloud, “this is all in your head.”

She stood still for a moment, wondering if the voice would come back.

“Nah, I don’ think so. Seems pretty real to me.”

Her heart rate spiked, that thudding vessel leaping in her chest at the sound of Dean’s bona fide voice. She walked into the bathroom, washed her face, spritzed herself with her favorite perfume, the adequately named Baby Doll, which Dean had adored on her. The mix of vanilla and sandalwood drove him crazy, so it only made sense it’d drive any other man crazy for her, too.

*********

“I was thinking we could go dancing,” the lifeguard proposed. “There’s a street dance not far from here.”

“That sounds…great,” she said, giving him the best smile she could muster. She still wasn’t over the incident that had happened in her hotel room. Dean’s voice had been there, clear as a Costa Rican morning. She rubbed her arms, the shuddering cold coming back to her.

The lifeguard noticed, asking her if she needed anything.

“I’m fine,” she promised. “Just a little chilly. I’ll be fine once we start dancing.”  
The lifeguard smiled, walking her through the cobbled streets of San Jose. They talked quite a bit, learning about each other bit by bit and feeling each other out.

When they reached the street streamed with fairy lights, she silently thanked the universe that they had made it before their conversation faded. She had begun to wonder how long she could speak before she ran out of material, like a comedian with a microphone in her hand. It was safe to say she wasn’t one for mindless chatter, definitely wasn’t a fan of opening up.

So she let her body speak where her words could not.

A mixture of reggae and salsa played through the two huge speakers at the end of the block. The music lingered through the air and into the windows of nearby apartments. Clearly, anyone who even thought of being asleep would be thoroughly disappointed.

She placed her hands around his neck, fully expecting the lifeguard to place his hands around her waist. Instead, he took one of her hands and placed it in his own, their fingers entwining.

Her stomach flipped inside. She wasn’t expecting this kind of tender, intimate touch. It was strange to her, after so long. Foreign.

It made her…anxious, was the word.

He gazed into her eyes for a moment, wondering if this was okay. She gave him a little half smile, not entirely sincere, as they began to sway to the music.

After about one song, she realized this wasn’t enough. She couldn’t do anything more without some….liquid courage. Luckily, she managed to find some not far away at a table, and ended up downing a cup full of sangria in seconds.

She was all touches after that, until….

_His mouth on her neck as she swung her hips, his fingers reaching beneath the hem of her dress. The music, loud but unable to drown out the pumping of her heart in her ears. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt like she was about to pass out. It was too hot, damn it was so warm she began to shiver. His fingers scathed her, and she winced from his touch._

Pulling away, her eyes fluttered closed, realizing why her entire body held her back.

She craved the roughness of her battle-bruised brawler. His rugged palms handling her like no other man’s could. His experienced, nimble fingers making their way and exploring her body, each caress like something new, even though he knew every inch of her smooth skin better than his own. Not to mention his tongue….oh, God, his tongue….

 _I’m so addicted to_  
_All the things you do_  
_When you’re going down on me_  
_In between the sheets_  
_All the sound you make_  
_With every breath you take_  
_It’s unlike anything_  
_When you’re loving me_

“That’s right, darlin’. My tongue’s the only one you’ll let between those thick thighs of yours. This guy? He ain’t got shit on the ol’ lunatic.”

She opened her eyes, whirling around to face her dance partner, eyes widening as she saw the face of Dean Ambrose. She blinked, disbelieving, and the lifeguard stood before her. “Que pasa, linda?” _What’s wrong, beautiful?_

“N-nothing, I just - I thought I saw someone.” She placed a hand on her forehead, checking to see if she was running a fever. She was burning up, and needed to rest.

“Segura?” _You sure?_ He asked. Worried lines set in the lifeguard’s features, his handsomely chiseled face looking even prettier with concern.

“Actually, I have to head back.” At his reply to walk her home, she protested. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I think I need some time alone.”

He objected again, clearly thinking her defenseless, unable to handle a short walk back to the hotel.

That’s when she pulled his arm over her head and placed him in a modified wrist lock. He bent down to the floor in an instant, mouth open in shock as she let him go. Nursing his wrist, he nodded in concession. “Okay,” he whispered, finally understanding.

“Just like I taught ya,” she heard Dean chuckle as she walked away.

 _I know when it’s getting rough_  
_All the times we spend_  
_When we try to make_  
_This love something better than_  
_Just making love again_

**April 8th, 2018  
New Orleans, LA**

She didn’t even know why she was in this godforsaken town. She hated Mardi Gras, she despised parades, and she couldn’t stand the damp, humid heat. But she came for Asuka and Charlotte and Shinsuke. She told herself that’s why she was here, front row. That she was here for nothing else.

But it was a lie.

Somewhere, in a bed maybe, Dean Ambrose was watching his friends put on the show of a lifetime. Seth was going up against the Miz and Finn, Roman up against Brock in the main event. Of course he was going to be watching intently.

And out of the corner of the screen, he’d see the familiar shape of her.

The one that left him. The one who wouldn’t stay.

_The one he still loved._

The moment the cameras went to commercial after Roman’s win against Brock, the huge samoan stood in front of her.

“You know he saw you,” he stated plainly, embracing her in front of thousands of people as their mixed reactions to his win resonated through the stadium. But he didn’t give one single fuck. His eyes were trained on her, waiting patiently for her response.

“I know.” she said, barely audible over the roaring crowd.

“And? Why are you here?” Roman asked, his meaning apparent. _Why would you hurt him more by being here when you know he can’t be?_

She sighed, giving Roman a kiss on the cheek. There was no way she could answer his question, so she ignored it. “Go kiss your wife and daughter before they kick my ass for keeping you.”

The roaring of the crowd would not stop. Asuka managed to get an usher to escort her friend backstage, where the noise was slightly less…deafening.

The moment she was back there, her phone buzzed. Had it not been in her hand as she took a picture with Asuka and her new belt, she probably wouldn’t have heard nor felt it.

She swiped at the screen, and held the phone up to her ear.

“Sweetheart?” he managed. Her heart lunged in her throat, whatever words she may have had ready now leaving her.

“Kitten, it’s me. I know you’re there. You’re at Mania. I can hear it.”

Still, no response from her.

He sighed. “Look, you don’t have to talk. Just listen.”

“I’m gettin’ better. They say I’ll be out in no time at all. It’s taken a chunk outta my time this year, but I swear I’ll be good as new by Summerslam. Like a newborn baby.”

She wiped at her eyes, looking up at pitch-black sky. The stars were drowned out by the light of the stadium.

“But….I was thinkin’ you could come see me. Come-come take care o’ me. I miss ya.”

At this, she nearly hung up. She was so afraid to hear any more. So sure that she’d end up right in that hospital room. Again.

“I…I know that our relationship was mainly, just…fighting and make up sex, but I swear it was good. But if that’s not enough, we’ll be more. I wan-I need you here with me, babe. You’re all I can think about.” His voice wavered. “I’m not right without you, sweetheart.”

Her lips quivered, again on the verge of tears as she heard his voice crack.

“You’re the only person in the world who gets me, in every single way. Damn it, I wish I could hold you right now.”

“No, Dean, I…I can’t,” she said, hanging up the phone.

Two states away, where no one could hear him, Dean Ambrose whispered, “I’ll never hurt you again.”

 _It’s not like you to turn away_  
_All the bullshit I can’t take_  
_Just when I think I can walk away,_

*********

“Yeah. Can’t walk away that easy, right, kitten?”

She had no choice but to keep walking. A few more minutes, and she’d be in the comfort of her hotel room, where she hoped the voice that haunted her would cease.

“I don’t…” he started, keeping himself a few paces short of her, “understand, why you’re doin’ this to yourself, sweetheart.”

 _Doing what?_ She thought, the sound of his voice making her lose all strength in her legs. They were like jelly, causing her to pause and lean a hand against a nearby wall. All I’m doing is trying to move on. She clenched her hand around an iron bar of a nearby fence with her fist.

“Ain’t no sense in moving on from somethin’ as good as we were, kitten. As good as we are.”

“You’re wrong,” she whispered to the air, “you’re wrong.”

“Sayin’ it a million times won’t change anythin’. We were the best damn thing that ever happened to each other and we ruined it.”

Her breath hitched, but she didn’t turn. “What did you say?”

“We ruined it. You walked away…and I fucked up. I know I did.”

She whipped around, found herself staring at those light, baby blue eyes. “You’re not real. You’re just saying that because that’s what I’d like to hear. You’re a figment of my imagination.” She shook her head, backing away from him.

Dean looked up at the sky and chuckled, his jaw twitching just like he used to when he couldn’t believe what she was saying. If he was a figment of her imagination, he sure was a visceral one.

He leaned in, those dashing eyelashes mesmerizing her as she stood frozen in place. “Why don’t you take your sweet ass to Alabama and find out for yourself if I mean what I say?”

She laughed a laugh so utterly inhuman, incredulous at the thought. The ghost of her past was as commanding, stubborn, and charming as the real thing. She bit her lip, contemplating his proposal, but all that came to mind was the coarseness of his scruff as it grazed her thighs, the feeling of his warm hands squeezing every inch of her, the wetness of his tongue as it trailed a cold path around her nipples and ending at her peaks. That feeling of being complete whenever his cock entered her body and pounded into her, leaving her breathless and satisfied.

 _I’m so addicted to_  
_The things you do/ ___  
_When you’re going down on me_  
_All the sound you make_  
_With every breath you take_  
_It’s unlike anything_  
_When you’re loving me_  
_Yeah_  
_When you’re loving me_

____

“Kitten?” Dean whispered, those same fingers sweeping her jawline, pleading for an answer as her skin trembled in excitement.

*********

**July 20th, 2018  
Birmingham, AL**

“Leaving so soon, Dean?” The nurse asked with a smirk. She opened the curtains, the small dust spots visible in the light as he squinted at them.

“Figured I shouldn’t overstay my welcome,” he quipped, receiving a merry laugh from the older woman. On the bed, his bags lay packed and ready, but he wasn’t about to leave just yet. “Rest assured, this’ll be the last you see of ol’ Deano.”

“Oh, it better be,” she said, a warm, open-mouthed smile lighting up her face as Dean pulled her in for a hug. “If I never see you again, I know it means you’re takin’ care of yourself.”

“See ya, Mrs. Alvarez. I’ll be back for my bags after my last PT session. Tell my ma and Lisa for me?”

“Of course, mijito.”

As he walked out of his hospital room and made his way to the elevator, Lisa came walking out of a restroom door, and smiled when she noticed him. “Dean!” she said excitedly. “Was just about to go to your room and get your things packed.”

“Packed ‘em myself,” he said. “You don’t have ‘ta do everything for me, you know.”

“I know, it’s just-” she hesitated to say it, because she said it often, “your mom wanted me to-”

“-take care of me. I know, sweet pea, I know.” He smiled at the beautiful, red headed woman beside him. If it hadn’t been for her, he didn’t know how he would have made it the last few months.

She brought him his clothes, she watched television with him. She helped him when he needed an extra hand, to cut his food into pieces. He hated making her do it, but she was always there for him. Hell, she even read books to him so he could fall asleep.

“Why don’tcha take a break from helpin’ me and just watch me at my best, huh? How’s that?” He gave her his best puppy dog smile before she opened her mouth to fuss, and she was a goner. She nodded, following him into the elevator. Lisa reminded herself that Dean had two hands and could reach for the elevator button on his own.

“Last bit of physical therapy before we head home, huh?” she asked, hand rubbing down her arm for any sort of heat. She hated hospitals more than anything, and she’d been here for hours on end the past few months, taking care of Dean. He would’ve been out sooner, but…when his girlfriend left him, it….messed him up bad. Seeing her the day of Wrestlemania on the television screen didn’t help matters at all, especially after his phone call.

Lisa remembered that night. The phone had slipped from his fingers, landed on the floor with a crack. He’d fallen asleep with tears streaming down his face, and woken up multiple times yelling out variations of, “Kitten, I’m on my knees, here!” only to find Lisa where he hoped that she would be. But she never was.

Lisa shivered. She would be glad to leave this place.

“Damn right it is,” he answered, his cockiness apparent in the way his shoulders shifted and straightened. “One hour and you, me, and my ma will never have to see the inside of this place again.”

Lisa smiled to no one in particular. “That sounds amazing.”

“Dean, looks like your elbow is a hundred percent healed!” the physical therapist smiled. “Truly unexpected.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Dean deadpanned. A few feet away, Lisa keeled over laughing.

“Well, to be frank I thought you’d be here at least another two months, but you’ve healed quite nicely.” Dean’s therapist instructed him to bend his elbow, as if to flex his arm.

Dean raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted to see my guns, doc, all ya had to do was ask.”

“Keep that up, Ambrose, and I’ll have you confined to your bed another six weeks.”

Dean blurted, “Come on, doc, no need to draw any hasty conclusions, huh?” Dean ran a hand through his hair and his tongue across his lips. “I mean, I’m good as new, right? I can go home?”

Dean’s eyes sparkled so brightly with hope that his therapist just couldn’t hold their stern gaze, much as they tried. A smile played on their lips. “Can’t keep a straight face around this guy,” they muttered to themselves, then looked back to the hopeful Dean, “Yeah, kid. You’re good to go.”

“Right on, doc!” Dean pulled them in for a hug, patting them roughly on the back to the point they couldn’t breathe. “Thanks for everything, doc, seriously. Couldn’t have done it without ya.”

“Was all you, Mr. Ambrose,” they grunted, trying to break free of Dean’s embrace. “You made this happen.”

“I know, doc, but don’t make me look conceited in front of Lisa,” Dean whispered, hand covering the side of his mouth as if it helped her not to hear.

“Congrats, Deano!” Lisa came up from behind him, arms reaching beneath his and hugging him tightly. Her head tilted to the side, and she gave him a kiss to the cheek. Patting him on the shoulders, she said, “now, I’ll be headin’ back to your room to get your stuff. Bet your mom’s there, too, so we’ll head on home.”

As she walked away, Dean’s therapist watched her. “Damn. No chance in hell for me, huh?”

Dean pursed his lips, watching her walk away as well. “Not a chance.”

 _How can I make it through_  
_All the things you do?_  
_There’s just got to be more to you and me_

“Dean?” A voice cracked.

His stomach flipped over, knowing full well whose voice it was. The last time he’d heard it, Dean was begging her to come back. Now, she was here. And for some reason he couldn’t comprehend, she looked like she’d had the wind knocked out of her.

“Kitten,” he grinned without needing to turn around, hinted with his eyes to the person standing in front of him if it was all right that he have this conversation in private. His therapist pursed their lips, nodding and walking past the open door.

“Who—?” she trembled, and it was then Dean realized why she was so upset. “I’m sorry,” she began, “I thought that maybe—”

“Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re here.” He turned around, locking eyes. “I knew you couldn’t keep away,” he smirked sinfully.

God, the amount of mixed emotions she was feeling right now. Not five minutes ago, she was filled with excitement at the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d still want her back. That is, until she saw the gorgeous ginger-haired woman plant a kiss on his cheek.

“I didn’t…I don’t know why I came here,” she started, now very unsure about herself. But Dean couldn’t stop smiling, and she began to wonder why. Why was he smiling at her like she was the best thing in the world? His new girlfriend was sexier, kinder, more loyal than she could ever be. Where the hell did he even find her, anyway? “Is your new girlfriend a nurse?” she blurted out.

His smile became laughter. He began to laugh so hard, he nearly fell to the floor.

“What’s—?” but at that moment, the ginger haired woman walked back in the room.

“Hey, cuz, I forgot to give you the keys to the bike—aaand you’re not alone.” She stopped, keys jingling in her hand. Lisa looked over at her, the one she’d heard so much about but never met in person.

“Lisa, this is my ex-girlfriend.” Dean flinched at the word ‘ex’, knowing it would sting her, too. “Kitten, this is Lisa….my cousin.”

A sigh of surprise, as well as relief. “Oh. Hi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lisa waved shyly like a kid, threw the keys into Dean’s lap. “I’ll….leave you guys to it. Gonna go ahead and start our trip back home.”

“Sounds good. Tell my mom I love her?”

“Damn right I will.” And Lisa was gone, just like that.

She turned back to Dean, a wide grin meeting her.

“Ginger blonde hair and deep dimples didn’t give away the family resemblance?” He joked.

“You asshole.”

“Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she groaned, moving closer, still unsure whether they were at that level of intimacy after so long.

“Hm, it’s just you looked so damn cute standing there, jealous.” Dean ran his tongue across his lip, a biting grin unable to stop itself from appearing. “I just couldn’t bare to stop ya.”

She sighed, ignoring his little jab. “I….I came here for something, and I honestly can’t remember why.”

Dean’s nose twitched in contemplation. “You wanted to see if I was all right.”

She decided to play his little game, her movements suddenly becoming a little more dramatic. She crossed her arms, one finger tapping at her lip. “Hmm, no, I don’t think that was it.”

“Ouch,” Dean winced. Recovering quickly, “Ya missed me.”

She grinned. “Maybe, but unlikely.”

“Damn,” he nodded, impressed at how cold she was being.

“You wanna know why I’m here?” She asked, taking the liberty of pulling up the therapist’s chair right in front of him and sitting down, so their eyes were level.

He leaned forward in his own chair, body language open and confident. “Tell me.”

She huffed, looking down at the floor and crossing her arms, pulling away just a bit. “You’ll think I’m crazy.”

A sly grin from Dean had her stomach in knots, but not in the way that made her want to throw up. “Kitten, did you forget who you’re talkin’ to?”

She smiled at that, nodding. “I guess Dean unstable Ambrose would know a thing or two about crazy, huh?”

“You’re damn right I do.”

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Closing her eyes with a small, almost peaceful sigh of relief, she told him her story.

*********

“So lemme get this straight…” he said, his eyelashes squinting at her, his thumb and forefinger holding his chin in deep, dramatic thought, and a playful sparkle in his eye.

“My ghost dared you to come back and find me?”

She nodded, unable to speak. Dean opened his mouth to speak again, but she gave him a warning look, pleading with him to take her seriously. He gazed into her eyes, willing himself to be the man she wanted in that moment.

He cleared his throat. “Then you’re in luck, because I’ve been waitin’ on you so I could tell you that I was sorry.”

Her heart fluttered in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

Dean flashed her a cheeky grin. “Do I look like the type of guy to dick you around?”

“Depends what kind of dickin’ around we’re talking about,” she mumbled, staring at her hands in her lap as Dean burst out laughing. She listened to the happy sound, lips unable to keep from smiling back.

Finally, he reached for her hand, tugging playfully. She gazed at him, confused. What is it? Her eyes seemed to say.

“C’mere.”

She hesitated, every inch of her ambivalent.

Dean huffed. “Kitten, come here or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Her fingers slipped out of his grasp. She looked deep into his clear blues, the brightness of them darkening at her obvious proposal.

“Or I’ll fuckin’ make you.” The growl in his voice wasn’t one to be playing with, and against her better judgement, she had to admit that she missed it. She enjoyed being told what to do when it came to moments of elevated sexual tension, because if it was up to her, she would just stand there, paralyzed by fear. Afraid to be seen as a whore and afraid of being an angel.

“My lap’s still waitin’ on ya. But you might wanna lock the door first. Wouldn’t want anyone accidentally ruinin’ our little reunion, now would we?” There was something about his low, rumbling voice that always got to her.

Jesus, Dean sure knew how to get a girl wet. She locked the door with a click, turning around to walk straight into his arms and into his lap.

He cupped her chin, forcing her to look up. “Before we do anything we’ll regret, I just need to say something.”

She wiggled in his lap, feeling him hardening beneath his jeans. She bit her lip, stopping herself from an all-out grin.

“Kitten, please. Let me get this out.” Dean grunted, feeling a little awkward. As he struggled with his words, his hands crept up higher and higher up the span of her jean-clad thighs, causing her to shudder in response.

“I’m sorry that I made you worry.”

Her hand reached for his cheek, and he melted into it like a child reaching out for their safety blanket.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.” This time their eyes met, and she could see the remorse in his own. “I’m sorry that I didn’t take you into consideration when I put my body on the line the way I did.” He wet his lips, feeling all too much like he was a young wrestler again, bright lights hiding the terrifying audience that watched him in the shadows. “I shoulda been more careful. If not for my sake, then for yours.”

Her thumb rubbed at his cheek, doing its best to convey the amount of love and care she felt for him where her words failed her. Tears pooled at her eyes, and her throat tightened.

“I’m sorry, kitten. For everything.”

Hands scratching at his beard, she figured this was as good a time as any to lean in for a kiss. It was…tender, as if it were their first. And in a way, it was. After months of not seeing each other, months of trying to just…forget, they finally came together again, now, in this gentle kiss. Filled with sorrow, hurt, remorse - but also love, longing, and most of all, hope.

She pulled away first, catching her breath. “I’m…I’m sorry, too-”

“Kitten, no- there’s nothin’ for you to be-” Dean started, but was shushed with the touch of her index finger to his lips.

“No, Dean. I should have stayed for you. I’m sorry.”

His eyes searched hers, a feeling of bittersweetness overwhelming him at her words. “I don’t blame you for leavin’. If anyone did me the way I’d done you, I’d have left a long fuckin’ time ago.” His palms rubbed into her thighs in circles, a warmth rising up within her in more ways than one. “I should count myself lucky that you came back.”

She shuddered, taking in the wonderful words that she could feel within her very depths were true, every last bit of them. Dean’s lips kissed her once more, this time a little more roughly, a little more sloppy, a little more desperate, as she let out a whine she couldn’t contain.

 _I’m so addicted to all the things you do_  
_When you’re going down on me_  
_In between the sheets_  
_All the sound you make with every breath you take_  
_It’s unlike anything_  
_It’s unlike anything_

“Fuck, kitten. I missed you,” he growled into her ear, his lips exploring down the length of her neck, biting down and sucking wherever he could. “But I don’t think this is the time or place.”

They both stopped.

“What?” This was probably the third time since she got here that she felt confused.

“Let’s go home.” He ran a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “As kinky as this is, I’m actually really fuckin’ done with this place.”

She couldn’t deny him that. Hospitals weren’t her favorite place to hang out, either.

“Okay.” She nodded. Softly, “Let’s go home.”

 _I’m so addicted to_  
_All the things you do_  
_When you’re going down on me_

The sounds of heavy, hoarse breathing echoed through the bedroom, the interior blanketed in moonlight from the balcony door. Another sound —wet, sloppy, rapid— came from the man between her legs.

“Mmm, yeah, ya like that?”

He sat kneeled at the edge of the bed, jeans still barely hanging on to his hips, her legs slung over his toned shoulders. From above him, at the top of the bed, a moan fell from her pretty little mouth.

He chuckled. “Take that as a yes.”

Dean rubbed at her clitoris in lazy circles as one of his fingers reached deep into her core, pumping just as irritatingly slow. He sensed her body tensing, so ready to take her over the edge that her torso lifted off the bed.

“No, I don’t think so,” he commanded, pulling out his finger to push her body back down on the bed. “You come when I say so, princess. Not the other way around.”

She stifled a squeal, squirming beneath the weight of his hand. “Dean…”

“Don’t _Dean_ me, sweetheart.” One hand still rubbing at her bundle of nerves, he gradually lifted his body so that he straddled her, pinning her in place.

His mouth dipped down, licking a trail up her stomach. She trembled at the feeling, wishing she could move, but every time she tried his fingers would cease, keeping her from the release she craved.

He bit down, right on the tip of her nipple, teeth rolling. She winced, not at the pain—but at the devilish look in his eye as he did it.

“Fuck you,” she managed, and he bit down a tad harder, resulting in a scream that she couldn’t contain.

Her hand reached for his throat, squeezing it lightly in warning. But instead of pulling back, he strained against her hold, begging her to squeeze tighter.

“That’s it, kitten, fight back,” he grunted against her hand at his windpipe, “you know how much it turns me on when you fight back.” He rubbed harder, inciting the flame deep down in her core once more.

He squeezed her breast to near bruising, before sucking on it like his life depended on it, all while her coils tightened tighter and tighter. “Fuck,” she cursed, “oh my god, Dean—”

“—That’s it, kitten, you come for me. You come for Dean Ambrose. You come for the only man that knows how to handle this pussy—” He slid two fingers inside her, pumping deep inside her before curling at just the right spot, the spot only he’d ever been able to find. The one that completely unwinded her.

Her pussy tightened around his fingers as she let out a moan so primal that it resonated through his entire body. He continued curling into her, riding out her climax. From her mouth spilled out a stream of whispered curses, each softer than the last as she caught her breath.

 _All the sound you make_  
_With every breath you take_  
_It’s unlike anything_

Kissing her stomach, he took a deep breath through his nose, reveling in the scent of vanilla and sandalwood (the perfume he bought her ages ago) mixing with the natural scent of her undoing.

Dean’s mouth wrapped around the breast he had ravaged, licking around it gently and sucking tenderly to ease away the pain.

He took care of her in this way, kissing every bit of her that he hurt, his hands roaming—squeezing the absolutely marvelous curve of her ass and then grazing the sides of her waist as he kissed the hollow of her neck, all the while muttering downright dirty praise.

 _“Mm, that’s my baby girl…such a slut, just for me…”_  
_“Little whore…couldn’t wait to come….”_  
_“Mary Magdalene ain’t got nothin’ on you…”_  
_“I don’t even need my cock to get you goin’…”_

“Dean,” she finally spoke, barely above a whisper in the silence of their bedroom, yet it felt so loud and clear.

She pulled at his chin, passionately kissing him before settling her mouth firmly at his ear, his beard scratching roughly at her jawline, but she didn’t care. She was all too aware how frenzied this would get him.

“What is it, kitten?”

“Dean,” she begged, tugging him by the hair, “fucking destroy me.”

He chuckled, pulling her up. “Wish I’d known that’s what you wanted sooner.” He motioned for her to twirl around, facing the headboard. “Now get on all fours, sweetheart, like the good little kitten you are; show me that gorgeous ass.”

She did as she was told, bending down on all fours. His beard rubbed the small of her back raw as squeezed her bottom, sending another wave of shivers through her spine. She let out a hum of approval that only got louder when he reached around for her throat.

“Wet again already,” Dean observed, his chuckle rumbling across her spine. Before she had the chance to ask him how he knew, she felt the head of his cock at her entrance, rubber in place, easing against her. Before he did though, he turned her face just enough so they could share another kiss. When he pulled away, he gave her another, this time on the side of her cheek. “God, I fucking love you.”

“I love you too, Dean.”

His cock stretched against her walls, basking her in a different feeling of ecstasy than the one she’d had previously. As he pounded into her, deep and rough, the way she asked for it, her mind focused on one thing: just exactly how damn much she wanted to be with him forever.

Call her crazy, but she knew that he meant what he’d said. He was going to do right by her, from now on. They both would. Whether in bed, like they always had, or out where the rest of the world could see them.

They’d do right by each other, and that was that.

**Author's Note:**

>  _I’m so addicted to you_  
>  Addicted to you…


End file.
